Meant For This
by scully1138
Summary: Harold needs another surgery. He could really use some help, but will he confide in John? Inspired by a story prompt from nemo. This story is 5 chapters long, and the last chapter is non-explicit Rinch/slash. But the first 4 chapters stand alone, and anyone should be comfortable reading them. You decide. I'll give you another warning before the we get to the Rinch section.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: When I received nemo's request for a hurt/comfort story I wasn't sure I should try it. It's not really in my comfort zone, and there are many brilliant hurt/comfort stories out there already. But nemo asked me to accept it as a challenge, and I do find a good challenge irresistible. Even so, this is not exactly the story I was asked for, and I'm not sure where it came from. (Sorry, nemo!)There were so many times when I thought this would never see the light of day, and I would just finish it for myself. But ultimately I think the story has its moments and I ended up wanting to share it after all. Just to be clear, the last chapter heads into some modest and non-explicit Rinch/slash territory.

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Meant For This

Chapter 1

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Something was very wrong with his partner, and John was having no luck at all getting Harold to talk about it. His friend was skilled at covering his distress, but John knew the other man's expressions and gestures as intimately as his own, perhaps more so. The pain that seemed to come now with every movement was visible in Harold's eyes. But John's questioning glances were met with warning looks, and he knew better than to pry. Still, it was hard for him to watch the proud man suffer.

As amicable as they had become, Finch still had parts of his life that he kept very private, and John accepted that - up to a point. But as Harold withdrew into the pain he seemed to be withdrawing from his friend as well, and John had the unsettling feeling that his partner was slipping away from him. He was greatly concerned about Harold's health, and he also missed his friend and the camaraderie they had developed.

"_What if you could be there in time?"_

Well, he _was_ here, damn it, and John was anxious to help in any way he could. But Harold continued to hold him at a distance, and stubbornly soldiered on with their work. He wasn't even attempting to disguise his misery anymore, and the atmosphere in the library - once so convivial and relaxed - was becoming increasingly strained.

They were in the middle of a case when, without explanation, Harold rose and reached for his coat. He stopped for a moment and leaned against the desk, closing his eyes as he steeled himself against the pain. John winced just watching him, but tried to sound nonchalant.

"Going somewhere, Finch?"

"I have an appointment, Mr. Reese. It's a personal matter."

John hesitated. He recognized the warning tone in his friend's voice, but he was getting desperate. They couldn't go on like this.

"What's wrong, Harold? Please, what can I do?"

"You can work the case. I'll be back shortly,"

John sighed. How do you help someone that stubborn?

Fusco was trailing the number, so John went to the computer and tried to dig into her background, but with little success. His mind kept returning to Harold, and the agonized look on the man's face as he left the library. He adjusted the keyboard. Something had worked its way underneath and gotten stuck there.

Hale Spinal Clinic  
644 East 70th Street  
New York, New York 10065

John stared at the business card. Following Harold to his appointment was a really bad idea. And even as he tried to talk himself out of it, he already knew he was going to do just that. Fear and frustration at the breaking point, he headed out the door.

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The foyer of the Hale Spinal Clinic more closely resembled that of a luxury rental property than a medical facility. John recalled how uneasy hospitals made his friend and wondered if that was why Finch had chosen it. The puzzled but courteous staff allowed _Detective Stills_ to have a look around, and he took the elevator up to the patient floors. Now that he was here, John wasn't exactly sure what he hoped to accomplish. No matter what he discovered, nothing would change unless Harold opened up to him. Still, this was a definite improvement over doing nothing. As he searched for Dr. Hale, John wondered if he would be any more forthcoming if he were in Harold's position. Probably not, he quickly concluded. In his own way he was as private as Harold. And invading his friend's privacy - John had to admit - was not going to encourage any more trust between them. He turned to leave with a renewed resolve to convince Harold to confide in him.

But as he rounded the corner he stopped dead in his tracks at the stunning sight of Harold - wearing a hospital gown and being pushed in a wheelchair by a distracted-looking orderly. He knew he should leave but somehow he was rooted in place. Harold Finch, in his impeccably tailored suit, was a commanding presence. But right now his friend just looked frail and alone, and every instinct told John not to leave him.

But before he could do anything, Harold saw him there and looked directly into John's eyes. John watched the color rise in the mortified man's face, and for the first time his partner looked at him with outright anger, fury even.

"Mr. Reese, get out of my business!"

John stared a moment longer, just long enough to watch his friend's expression turn to one of hurt and betrayal. He fled.

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John approached the library the next day with a sense of dread. Something about hell and good intentions flitted through his mind. He had acted out of genuine concern for the other man, and in the process made a huge mistake. And now, added to his worry about Harold, was the very real possibility that his friend would consider this breach of trust unforgivable.

Harold looked up as he approached and silently motioned him over. John searched the other man's face, afraid of what he would find there. But Harold was looking at him kindly, and - John thought - a little sadly.

"Mr. Reese, how much do you know about spinal fusion surgery?"

John caught his breath and shook his head slightly. They were venturing into new territory here.

"It's performed, well, for a number of reasons. One reason occurs when the vertebrae are damaged to the extent that one's spine becomes unstable. The disc is removed from between the vertebrae and replaced with a bone graft harvested from the patient's pelvic bone. Metal plates are then screwed into the area to provide additional stability. In some cases - in my case - the incision is made in the throat, and the esophagus is retracted in order to provide access to the damaged vertebrae."

John couldn't speak. The fact that Harold had just described his own experience in such clinical, detached detail only increased John's sense of horror of what the man had endured. And he was beginning to understand that his friend's reluctance to talk about his tribulations went well beyond privacy issues.

"Because the fusion immobilizes parts of the spine that were intended to move, it places additional stress on the surrounding vertebrae and increases the rate of spinal degeneration."

The words hung in the air.

"I'm sorry, John. I know you were acting out of concern for me, and I apologize for my reaction. I just wasn't prepared to see you at that moment. But the truth is that I would have told you soon anyway. You see, I need additional surgery that will necessitate my absence for several weeks, possibly longer. I need to ask you to continue our work with the detectives while I'm away."

John was incredulous. Was that it? Did Harold really think he was going through this alone?

"Harold" - he began, but the other man quickly cut him off.

"It's all been managed. I've arranged for highly qualified people to provide whatever care I require."

It occurred to John that these must have been the circumstances of Harold's first surgery, surrounded by a polite and well-paid medical staff - and completely alone. He understood all too well that his friend was a private man, and proudly independent one. But the idea that Harold was preparing to face this latest challenge all alone was heartbreaking. Every part of John rebelled against that thought.

"This is not your burden to bear, John."

The words were spoken firmly. But in the pause that followed Harold looked at him so wistfully that for a moment John couldn't speak. And when he did, all the emotion that had been building up over these past difficult weeks came pouring out in his words.

"Harold, did you really think that I would let you go through this by yourself? That I would _want_ to be anywhere else?" He fought to keep his voice steady. "You're not alone anymore. I _will_ be there for you."

He spoke passionately, defiantly - daring his friend to challenge him on this. Somehow he had to find the words to convince Harold that he _needed_ to be there for him, and he was not about to back down.

But in the end he was girding for a fight that never came.

Harold observed him silently for a moment before lowering his eyes and saying quietly, "Thank you, Mr. Reese. I believe I would like that very much."

And as he registered the relief in the other man's voice, John realized that he had offered his friend exactly what he wanted all along, but hadn't known how to ask for.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! The next chapters are in pretty good shape and should be up fairly quickly. As always, your thoughts and comments are most appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm back again with a short chapter. Thank you so much for reading and following, and for your kind words. It means a lot to me.

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Meant For This

Chapter 2

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Harmony was restored to the library in a way that felt different than before. Harold was a changed man since their conversation. Despite his pain, he seemed almost mysteriously happy, even teasing John about _Detective Stills'_ disastrous appearance at the clinic. John felt the other man's eyes on him frequently, and he suspected that his friend still had some secrets he was holding on to.

For his part, John could only feel relief that he had somehow slipped through Harold's latest line of defense, and was finally being allowed to help his friend. He wondered why this agreement, which felt so natural, had been so difficult to reach. But then they were both guarded men, and for their own reasons. However they had reached this point there seemed to be a new accord between them, and John was grateful for it.

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On the morning of the surgery they were in good spirits, under the circumstances, and looking forward to putting this ordeal behind them. Even so, John could sense his partner's uneasiness as they entered the clinic. He had been amused to discover that Harold had arranged for an entire floor of the hospital, and had somehow negotiated Bear's attendance in the waiting room as well. And now, as John felt his friend's increasing apprehension, he was thankful for the dog's comforting presence.

Dr. Hale met with them before the surgery. He was young, but confident and focused, and he was optimistic that this would be the last surgery Harold would need to endure. Then the nurse arrived to escort the patient away, and suddenly Harold was gone with a nervous smile and a quick glance back at John.

John returned to the waiting room with Bear, and anxiously patted the dog. He had never been very good at waiting, and this situation promised to stretch his patience to its limits. He hadn't thought to ask how long the operation would take. Not that it really mattered. He wouldn't rest easy until this was over, and he could see with his own eyes that Harold was all right. Suddenly the nurse was at the door. Harold had asked to see him one more time before going into surgery.

Now it was John's turn to mask his expression when he saw Harold lying on the gurney, connected to a daunting number of tubes and monitors. His friend looked frighteningly vulnerable, but he held out his hand which John quickly clasped in his own.

"Thank you for being here with me, John. It means more to me than you can ever know."

John suspected that he _did_ know, if it was anything close to what he was feeling.

"See you on the other side, Harold."

The orderly began to wheel him away.

"Don't even think about leaving me."

This last came out almost as a whisper, surprising John and sending him back to the waiting room to ponder his own words.

Given the nature of their work they never talked about the future, and John made it a point not to think about his own. But now this situation was forcing him to do the one thing he sincerely wished to avoid: picture his life without Harold Finch. If anything happened to his partner he would still have their mission with the numbers to fulfill, and he would certainly have security - Harold had seen to that. It's just that all these things would lose their meaning without a certain billionaire by his side. It would all be so…incomplete. _He_ would be incomplete.

He was a different man with Harold, a better man. And with Harold he had a real friend and a life worth living. He was actually happy again - and he never saw that coming. But it was more than that. Somehow his entire life seemed to exist in an orbit around the other man – he felt _defined_ by Harold now. He wouldn't know who he was without his friend, and he didn't want to find out. He absently bounced Bear's ball off the wall while he waited.

He had no idea how much time had passed when the nurse appeared in the doorway. She took in John's face and quickly said "He's just fine. The surgery went perfectly." She continued, answering his other unspoken question. "You can go in now, he's waiting for you."

Harold was still connected to an impossible number of devices, and he was wearing a neck brace that looked like a hard collar. John was relieved to see that he was conscious, if a little groggy, and his partner's eyes focused on John when the taller man entered the room.

"Well done, Finch. Well done," was all he could manage.

The nurse assured him that everything was normal, and a young aide gave Harold some pain medication. Suddenly John felt more tired than he could ever remember. He pulled his chair closer to the bed and closed his eyes.

Then the first bullet shattered the window, taking out the light and showering both men with glass.

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	3. Chapter 3

Meant For This

Chapter 3

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There was a moment of unnatural silence before the terrified aide began screaming. John jumped up and tried to position himself between Harold and the direction of the shot. But in the dimness he careened into the IV stand which crashed to the floor, pulling Harold's arm with it at an awful angle and setting off a series of shrieking alarms on the monitors. Another shot rang out. John wasn't sure if he was the target or if the sniper was aiming at Harold, but either way the shooter had an unobstructed view. A third bullet lodged in the mattress a few inches from his friend's head, and as Harold looked at him helplessly, John realized with horror that between the neck brace and the now-twisted IV tubes the man was virtually immobilized. He frantically began trying to free him, and the nurse, who had been huddled on the floor, crawled over to help. There were footsteps and shouting in the hall, and as John reeled to face the door he felt something crush beneath his foot. He realized without looking that it was Harold's glasses and felt an irrational surge of panic, as if he had just lost the man himself.

A gunman appeared in the doorway but John was quicker, taking out the assailant with a single bullet. The other men retreated and John whistled for Bear, covering the dog as he raced into the room. The nurse had freed Harold and together they moved him into a wheelchair. He groaned as his neck was jarred and John tried to tuck a pillow under it for support. He wondered what kind of damage they were doing, but he couldn't see another way. He had to get them out of there.

Another shot from the sniper breezed by his face as more gunfire erupted in the hall. A glance revealed one of the assassins advancing on the hospital's security guard, who had taken a bullet in the leg. John neutralized the gunman with two well-placed shots to the kneecaps, and kicked his gun out of reach. But as he moved to help the guard he heard a click, and felt the hard nose of a pistol in his back. John felt his shoulders sag. He was running out of moves here. Then before he could try anything he heard a welcome voice - weak, but most definitely Harold's.

"Bear, _stellen!_"

In an instant the dog was on John's attacker, ripping away the arm holding the gun. John spun and finished the job, forgoing the man's kneecaps in favor of a more permanent target.

He nodded at Harold who was sheet white but still managed a faint smile. Still holding his gun in one hand, John grabbed the wheelchair and raced out of the room towards the service elevator, Bear loping alongside of him.

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John had always regarded the Brooklyn Heights safe house as one of Finch's more eccentric contingencies. An elegant brownstone on a private, tree-lined street, it was protected by Harold's beyond-state-of-the-art surveillance system. The townhouse was a veritable bastion, complete with a panic room, and an elaborate computer network that made it almost a satellite of their operation at the library. Finch only made him aware of it after their encounter with Root, and John assumed it was Harold's fortress-of-last-resort. As he pulled up in front of the house he once again marveled at the man's foresight and preparation.

He looked over at Harold, but his partner was barely conscious.

"Stay with me, Harold, please."

John got out of the car and paced anxiously, instinctively drawing his weapon when another vehicle approached. But he exhaled with relief at the sight of Dr. Madeleine Enright, New York's top trauma surgeon. And while the doctor had certainly been surprised to receive his call, she was very willing to help the men who had saved Amy's life, and rescued her from a terrible dilemma. It was on her direction that John had not yet moved Harold from the car.

"Thank you for coming, Maddie."

The doctor hurried over. She looked at Harold, and John watched the shock register on her face.

"Why isn't he in a hospital?"

"You know the kind of work we do as well as anyone. We've made enemies. Believe me, this would not be my first choice for him either. "

Dr. Enright stabilized Harold's neck, and together they moved him inside and up to a bedroom. The house was freezing, but there was a fireplace opposite the bed and John quickly lit it. Maddie began to examine Harold. Blood was seeping from the incision and he had several small lacerations on his face from the shards of broken window. She sent John out of the room while she worked.

Maddie joined him in the kitchen thirty minutes later. He could tell from her face that she had a dozen questions she wasn't sure she should ask. So she answered the one on his own face instead.

"He's going to be okay."

For a moment John couldn't speak, so the doctor continued.

"As far as I can tell, there's been no additional damage done. He should recover if he gets the proper care - ideally in a hospital." John shook his head. She looked at him directly.

"Then I hope you're ready for this. I'll leave you supplies and directions, but he's your responsibility now."

John's tired mind swam as she went over her instructions for Harold's care, writing him notes as she went along. When she was finished she looked over at him.

"He's a remarkable man, isn't he?"

John just nodded. She didn't know the half of it.

"You know that he assisted me in surgery, don't you? I had to open Veldt's chest and perform a heart massage in order to save him. I couldn't have done it without Harold's help." She sounded a little in awe. "When I was attacked he knocked out Wesley's operative with the overhead lamp."

John could only shake his head. _Of course_ Harold had never shared these details of his time with Dr. Enright. But her description of Finch in action brought his first smile in hours. She smiled back.

"He's extremely strong-willed. Follow my instructions and he'll recover in time. I'll check back soon."

John thanked her as best he could. They had acquired many enemies along the way, and now he realized that they had made a few good friends as well.

"You can go up. I gave him something for the pain and he's sleeping."

Harold looked peaceful in the fire's warm glow, and Bear was stretched out on his side in front of the hearth, already half asleep. As tired as he was, there was one more thing John needed to do.

He rummaged in the drawer for what he knew must be there, and set the spare glasses on the nightstand next to Harold. Finally he sunk down in the oversized chair next to the bed, and with final glances at his friend and his dog, let exhaustion overtake him.

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A/N: The literal translation into Dutch of the verb "attack" is _aanvallen_. According the several sites, however, the actual command appears to _stellen_, so that's what I went with.

I guess not everyone enjoyed my cliffhanger. Sorry about that! But that must mean the story is working, right? I'm going to run with that. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing. I really appreciate it.


	4. Chapter 4

Meant For This

Chapter 4

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John woke with a start and anxiously looked over at Harold. The other man was still sleeping. He looked terribly pale, but he was breathing evenly despite the cumbersome bandage on his throat. The fire was out and Bear had relocated to the bed, where he was pressed tightly against Harold's side. John was fairly certain that having a large dog sleeping so close to a fresh incision was not part of Dr. Enright's careful protocol, and he was equally certain that he wasn't going to disturb them.

He headed downstairs in search of some coffee, surveying his surroundings as he went. The historic house was beautifully restored and handsomely furnished. In addition to the large kitchen there was a formal dining room, an elegant parlor with a large fireplace and a library in an adjoining room. Only Harold would keep a place like this as a back-up plan.

John sipped his coffee and tried to wrap his mind around Maddies's organized instructions. He was out of his element, and a little overwhelmed by the assortment of medications, bandages and balms in front of him, but determined not to fail his friend. He was still pouring over the doctor's notes when he was suddenly struck with the most visceral feeling that Harold was awake and needed him. He bolted up the stairs.

Harold's eyes found him before he was even fully in the room, and the panic in them subsided at the sight of his partner. He had found the glasses John left on the nightstand, and his eyes seemed to drink in the other man. John sat down next to him and for a moment neither one spoke. They didn't need words to acknowledge just how close they had come to disaster, and somehow been reprieved yet again. It was Harold who finally broke the silence.

"Good morning, Mr. Reese, I see we both survived yesterday's excitement"

His voice was still weak, and John felt something clench at the familiar, dry tone. There had been so many moments when he thought he would never hear it again, and now he felt overcome by a kind of giddy relief. With effort he collected himself and fell into their old banter.

"Well, I didn't want you to have a boring surgery."

Harold smiled.

"Well then, mission accomplished. I am most certainly not bored."

He paused before looking directly at John and adding quietly,

"And I'm not _leaving_, either."

John was startled to hear his words of the day before come back to him. He hadn't realized they'd been heard. And hearing them now again he felt oddly shy, and broke off the gaze. But he felt his mouth turn up in a small smile anyway, despite the strangeness of the feeling.

He was abruptly drawn back to Harold when the other man suddenly tried to sit up. But at the first movement he shuddered as pain radiated through his body. He let out a small gasp and lay back down. John turned to him in alarm.

"Whoa, wait! Don't try to move. I've got you."

John reached an arm around the other man's back, gently easing him forward, and arranging the pillows so that he was in a more upright position.

"Listen to me, Harold. Maddie said you're going to be okay, but you need to take it easy."

Harold sighed in frustration.

"You have a gift for the obvious, Mr. Reese."

John worked his way through Dr. Enright's protocol, changing the dressing on Harold's incision with cautious hands, fearful of causing any more pain. As he examined the still-raw wound on his friend's throat he felt a fresh burst of compassion for all the man had endured. To his relief, Harold accepted some pain medicine, allowing John to gently hold the glass of water to his lips while he swallowed the pills. When he was sure that Harold was comfortable he rebuilt the fire, and soon the room was suffused in a reassuring warm glow.

He was pleased with his efforts on all fronts, but when he turned he found Harold watching him ruefully.

"I'm afraid this is a good deal more than you bargained for, John." He looked at his friend searchingly. "I'm sorry I put you in this position."

"I'm not."

John carefully sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at the other man with affectionate exasperation.

"Nothing's changed, Harold. We're still partners and we'll figure this out." Every look at his friend reminded John of just how close he had come to losing him.

"You had better get used to the idea that you're stuck with me."

Harold averted his eyes then with his own small smile, and John gathered that his answer was satisfactory because the subject was never broached again.

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John was surprised by how naturally they fell into a comfortable routine at the brownstone. Despite his pain, Harold was relaxed and graciously accepting of his partner's help. And John found himself embracing this new role with unanticipated satisfaction. Maddie had called Harold his responsibility, but watching his friend recover under his care was rewarding beyond anything he had ever experienced. He quickly mastered the schedule of medications, and even became comfortable helping his friend with the physical therapy Maddie suggested. And one day, as he felt Harold lean into him for support, John felt somehow that he was _meant_ for this. He had loved and been loved in his life, and his work with the numbers was immensely gratifying. But no one had ever _needed _him the way Harold needed him now, and it was bringing out something new. He hadn't known that he had this much to give. But then, Harold always had a way of bringing out the unexpected in him.

Maddie and Amy were regular visitors to the brownstone, and the doctor looked at them with nothing short of wonder at Harold's progress. And as she observed them together she sometimes cast inquiring looks in John's direction. Her face still seemed full of unasked questions, though perhaps different ones then before.

With such careful attention, Harold was indeed recovering rapidly. Within a few weeks he was tapping away at the laptop, asking for books from the brownstone's generous library, and politely concealing his delight at beating John at chess.

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They were having breakfast in Harold's room. John continued to bring the meal up to his friend even though they both knew Harold was now well enough to come downstairs for it. The breakfast-in-bed-routine had become something of a private joke. It seemed to amuse Harold, and John enjoyed doing it, and looked forward to his partner's indulgent smile when he appeared at the door with the tray each morning. And - almost unconsciously - they needed to share that first reassuring glimpse of each other at the start of the day.

"Mr. Reese, is there any progress in discovering the perpetrator of the hospital shooting?"

Harold asked this quietly. They rarely spoke of it, but it was never far from their minds that that the person who had come so close to killing them both was still out there.

John shook his head in frustration.

"The cameras were knocked out so there's no surveillance footage. And the leads we had were all dead ends."

They silently considered this. Lurking threats were something they lived with every day, and it seemed that a new one had been added to that growing list.

"I'm sorry Harold. I don't know what happened. I'm not even sure if they were after you or me."

Harold reflected on this for a moment before speaking.

"I'm not sure that distinction really matters anymore."

And John understood his friend's meaning exactly. It didn't matter because they were finally admitting that their battles were the same now, and their enemies all common ones. There would be no more "my past catching up with me" or "my burden to bear." Whatever the obstacle, they were in it together. And of course this had been their situation for a long time already - they were just dropping the pretence that it could ever be any other way. And having this admission - hearing these words - from his very private friend held a significance that was not lost on John, as he realized that his partner had finally lowered his last defenses around him.

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As Harold's health improved, they became familiar figures walking with Bear around the quiet neighborhood, and venturing out for dinner on pleasant evenings. And as they walked home one night along the promenade, with its stunning view of the Manhattan skyline, John realized that they would be leaving the brownstone soon and returning to - what? Their separate lives? It was inevitable, he supposed. He looked over at Harold standing beside him, healed and healthy. This was everything they had wished for - everything they had worked for. Still, John felt a twinge of sadness. He had become accustomed to living in the brownstone, with Harold in close proximity, and he would miss this.

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A/N: Well, this is it. This is where we sadly part company with any non-Rinch people who may have been reading along. But I bid you a fond farewell and thank you for staying with the story this far. I really appreciate it. For the rest of us, it's on to my very modest - and if I do say so myself - rather sweet Rinch chapter. I'll see you over there very soon. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: One more time, this is the Rinch chapter. Just so there are no misunderstandings…

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Meant For This

Chapter 5

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They returned from their walk and settled into chairs near the parlor fireplace. The fire blazed warmly and gave off a peaceful glow, and Bear happily stretched out in front of it. Harold opened a book, and occasionally glanced over at John with a contented smile. John opened a beer but didn't drink it, and tried to block out the emptiness he felt when he considered that this would all be ending soon. Eventually they said good night, and John fell into a restless slumber.

He was still half asleep when he realized that he was no longer alone in bed.

"Harold?"

The sheets rustled and Bear's heavy paw landed on his arm.

Wait, what?

What made him think that Harold would be in bed with him? And why did he feel a sharp disappointment that…" John let the thought trail off. He was wide awake now.

Morning arrived, and Harold still made no mention of returning to Manhattan and the library. That was fine with John. He needed time to ponder this new idea of Harold in his bed. That moment in the night when he thought the other man was with him would not leave his mind. Clearly, he had some things to work out.

The brownstone was quiet, the stillness broken only by the sound of Harold's fingers gliding across the keyboard and the occasional crackle from the fireplace. John sat near his friend with one of Harold's ever-present books, Bear stretched out alongside of him.

John was still thinking about his partner. His life without the other man had long been unimaginable, and these last weeks had brought them closer than ever. But now John realized that his feelings for his friend were more complicated than he had yet acknowledged. He felt the full weight of their loyalty and commitment to each other, which once again brought a lonely ache at the thought of separating from Harold when they returned to the city. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by a flood of memories - of the shared dangers and the many close calls, of the warm dinners and quiet moments together, and of the many small, mysterious qualities that endeared the other man to him. It was as if his entire life with Harold flashed before his eyes. Something seemed to shake loose and take his breath away. He loved Harold, was _in love_ with him so fiercely that John was stunned he hadn't understood his feelings before. And along with this startling realization came them inevitable knowledge that he _wanted_ Harold as well, and wanted to show the man in ways beyond words all that he meant to him. John began stealing surreptitious looks at his friend, trying to determine if there were any indications that Harold might feel the same way about him.

He could feel his friend's trust and gratitude in every look, and the other man always seemed happy to be in John's company. But Harold's demeanor revealed nothing more. The man was inscrutable, and John was coming to the frustrating conclusion that he may never know if Harold thought of him in any way beyond their friendship. As he tried to sort it all out, he suddenly realized that he was staring intently at his partner. Harold looked over, and seemed to be considering him as well. He gazed back at John with an expression of warm amusement, but said nothing.

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The next morning it seemed to John that something was definitely in the air. Harold had been all shy smiles over breakfast, and he obviously had something on his mind. Whatever the mystery was, John was sure he would find out in Harold's good time. And when the answer came, it wasn't at all what he was expecting.

"Mr. Reese, would you mind dinner out by the fireplace tonight?"

John could not suppress an astonished smile. He looked at Harold and the man steadfastly held his gaze, and returned it with his own small smile.

Harold Finch was planning to _seduce_ him, and they both knew it.

It was an amazing thought. John was amused and touched that Harold would do this for him, and entirely fascinated by the idea. He had never been the object of pursuit in exactly this fashion before, and the thought gave him a thrill of excitement. This was all so Harold. If something was going to happen, it would happen properly. He wondered if Harold realized how little fanfare would actually be required to pull him into bed at this very moment. And suddenly he had a feeling that the other man understood much more than he did, and perhaps had for a very long time.

_._

As John came downstairs at the appointed time, he realized that he was nervous - and his nerves were fueling his sense of intrigue and anticipation. He walked into the parlor and caught his friend's eye. Harold's face lit up at the sight of him, and John was incredibly moved. He had never felt such tenderness towards another person. Harold's seduction scene was laid out behind him, complete with candles, wine and cushions strewn in front of the roaring fire. It was at once sublimely silly and the most endearing thing John had ever seen. He fought back the sudden desire to sweep the other man into arms, engulf him in kisses and tell him all that he was feeling. But he could not deny his friend this moment of courtship. Harold motioned him to one of the cushions, and as John settled in Harold reached out and gently caressed his face. John drew a sharp breath as every cell in his body reacted. He looked into his friend's eyes and realized that they were so far beyond having anything but the truth between them. Harold's face and his touch were telling John everything he needed to know. Even so, Harold was wickedly determined not to be rushed. John leaned in and brushed his lips against Harold's, but the other man withdrew after a moment, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Who knew the man was such a tease? So John waited for his friend to make his move, even as Harold suddenly seemed impatient with his own game. Finally John simply reached for the other man, and Harold came to him with startling, long-suppressed passion. John held on to him for dear life.

Meeting Harold Finch had been the most extraordinary event of his life. And discovering that he could trust Harold, that it was safe to _need_ him, had been a revelation. But only now, as he shared the other man's very breath, did he begin to understand just how profound that need was, and that perhaps they had been meant for this moment all along.

.

John woke to the warm realization that Harold was lying next to him. _Really_ Harold this time, not Bear or a dream. He leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, and felt the other man smile as he continued to his eyelids, his lips, the scar on his throat. Harold opened his eyes then, and blissfully gazed at John with a look of unabashed satisfaction. And as John looked back at his friend, he found that he could not suppress his own giddy grin. That first glimpse of the day - which had become so important to them - had an entirely new meaning now. And as he draped an arm protectively over the other man, John knew that he had been hoping for this connection between them for a long time.

They lay together like that, each lost in his own thoughts, until bright sunshine was streaming into the room. The sunlight on Harold's face suited him, and John leaned in for another long kiss. Suddenly he felt the need to say the words.

"Harold, I love you."

Harold beamed at him, and the expression held a note of contented amusement.

"Yes, John, I _know_. Thank you for finally realizing that."

He smiled indulgently at John's inquiring look.

"I've known that you loved me since your words that day in the library before my surgery. But it was more than your words. I saw it in your face, and heard it in your voice. That knowledge brought me more happiness than you can know. And I will confess that I've been aware of the true nature of my feelings - that I knew I loved _you_ - for quite some time now. But I was prepared to let that be enough. I never would have acted on my feelings for you, never risked our friendship, unless I was absolutely certain that you wanted the same thing."

John raised an eyebrow at this last, and Harold continued.

"I hope you won't be too disappointed to learn that you lack a certain degree of subtlety. I thought you would have me for lunch yesterday."

John smiled as he recalled how intensely he had been studying his friend the day before, and Harold met his gaze.

"I hope I was able to convey to you just how happy I was to discover that you shared my feelings."

John chuckled.

"No worries there, Harold. You were quite…convincing."

"Good."

Harold looked exceedingly pleased, and John was gratified to see his friend - his lover - so happy and content.

More than ever John wished they could stay there - in the brownstone and in this moment - forever. But their work was part of them also, and he no longer dreaded returning to the city. Plenty of threats still awaited them. But as he felt Harold's frisky kiss on his neck, felt his partner's fingers gently trailing down his chest, John realized that in addition to feeling loved he somehow also felt safe, maybe for the first time. He felt himself responding to Harold's touch. John caught his friend's eye and saw the amorous twinkle there - apparently it was time for _lunch_. He gazed back at Harold and let all the love he was feeling for the other man show on his face. His life never seemed to take the direction he expected, John realized. Not long ago he refused to even consider his future, and now suddenly his life with Harold held so much promise. He rolled over, pressing his body against Harold's and finding the other man's lips with his own. Wherever this new journey might take them, he couldn't wait to get started.

.

FIN

.

A/N: I just love a happy ending. Actually I wrote most of the fireplace scene a few months ago, and this story finally gave me a home for it. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you once again to everyone for reading and reviewing, following and favoriting this story.

Also, I'd like to say a special thanks to the non-Rinch folks who stayed around and took a chance on this chapter. I started out as a non-Rinch person myself, so I really appreciate the leap of faith. (How did I get from there to here? I'm not sure exactly. The power of Rinch, I guess. It just pulled me in.)

And since this journey began with nemo's request, I guess it's only fitting that it ends there as well. However this story turned out, nemo, I'm a better writer for having attempted it, and I'm grateful.

Thank you for reading! Your reviews and comments are always welcome, and very greatly appreciated!


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